In the year 1874 we were cruising leisurely through the Western
Carolines, in the North Pacific, trading at such islands as we touched
at, and making for the Pelew Group, still farther to the westward. But
at that season of the year the winds were very light, a strong ocean
current set continuously to the eastward, and there was every indication
of a solid calm setting in, and lasting, as they do in these latitudes,
for a week. Now, part of our cargo consisted of dried sharks' fins, and
the smell from these was so strong that every one of the three white men
on board was suffering from severe headache. We had a number of native
passengers, and, as they lived in the hold, we could not close the
hatches; they, however, did not mind the nauseating odour in the least.
So, for three or four days, we crawled along, raising the wooded peaks
of Ascension Island (Ponapé) one afternoon, and drifting back to the
east so much in the night as to lose them at sunrise. Then followed
another day of a sky of brass above and a steaming wide expanse of oily
sea below, and then, at nightfall, a sweet, cooling breeze from the
north-east, and general happiness, accentuated by a native woman playing
a dissolute-looking accordion, and singing 'Voici le Sabre,' in Tahitian
French. No one cared to sleep that night. Dawn came almost ere we knew
it, and again the blue peaks of Ascension loomed up right ahead.

Just as we had finished coffee, and our attention was drawn to a number
of boobies and whale-birds resting upon some floating substance half a
mile distant, we discovered a couple of sail ahead, and then another,
and another, all whalers, and, as they were under easy-cruising
canvas--being on the sperm whaling ground--we soon began to overhaul
them. One was a small, full-rigged ship, the others were barques. As we
slipped along after them I ran our little vessel close to the floating
object I have before mentioned, and saw it was a ship's lower mast,
which looked, from the scarcity of marine growth upon it, to have
been in the water but a short time. Shortly after, we passed some more
wreckage, all of which evidently had belonged to a good lump of the
vessel.

About eleven o'clock we were close to one of the barques--a four-boat
ship, and also carrying a nine-foot dinghy at her stern. She hoisted the
Hawaiian colours in response to ours, and, as the breeze was very light,
I hailed her skipper and we began to talk. Our skipper wanted some
pump-leather; he wanted some white sugar.

'Come aboard,' he said, 'and have dinner with me. I'll give you a barrel
of 'Frisco potatoes to take back.'

We lowered our whale-boat, and, taking two hands, I pulled alongside the
barque. Although under the Hawaiian flag, her officers were nearly all
Americans, and, as is always the case in the South Seas, we were soon on
friendly terms. The four ships were all making for Jakoits Harbour, in
Ponapé, to wood and water; and I said we would keep company with them.
Our own skipper, I must mention, was just recovering from wild, weird
visions of impossible, imaginary animals, superinduced by Hollands gin,
and I wanted to put him ashore at Ponapé for a week or so.

After dinner the American captain put a barrel of potatoes into
our boat, and I bade him good-bye for the time. The breeze was now
freshening, and, as he decided to get into Jakoits before dark, the
barque made sail, and was soon a good distance ahead of our vessel.

Between four and five o'clock we saw the foremost whaler--the
ship--brace up sharp, and almost immediately the other three followed
suit. We soon discovered the cause--whales had been sighted, coming down
from windward. The 'pod' or school was nearest to us, and we could see
them quite plainly from the deck. Every now and then one of them would
'breach' and send up a white mass of foam, and by their course I saw
that they would pass between us and the barque--the ship nearest to us.
In less than five minutes there were more than a dozen boats lowered
from the four vessels, all pulling their hardest to reach the whales
first. The creatures came along very leisurely, then, when about a mile
from the schooner, hove-to for a short time; their keen hearing told
them of danger ahead, for three or four of them sounded, and then made
off to windward. These were followed by all the boats from the other
three vessels, and two from the barque, the remaining two belonging to
the latter pulling across our bows, close together and within a hundred
yards of us.

The rest of the whales--some cows, with their calves, and a bull--after
lying quiet for a short time, also sounded, but soon rose again, quite
close to the two boats. That of the chief mate got 'fast' first to one
of the cows, and away they flew at twelve or thirteen knots. The second
boat was making for the bull, which seemed very uneasy, and was swimming
at a great speed round and round the remaining cows and calves, with
his head high out of the water as if to guard them from danger, when the
monstrous creature again sounded and the boat-header instantly turned
his attention to a cow, which lay perfectly motionless on the water,
apparently too terrified to move.

Half a dozen strokes sent the boat to within striking distance and the
boat-header called to his boat-steerer to 'Stand up.' The boat-steerer,
who pulls bow oar before a whale is struck, and goes aft after striking,
is also the harpooner, and at the order to stand up, takes in his oar
and seizes his harpoon. After he has darted the iron, and the boat is
backed astern, he comes aft to steer, and the officer takes his place
for'ard, ready to lance the whale at the fitting time. There is no
reason or sense in this procedure, it is merely whaling custom.

Just as the boat-steerer stood up, iron in hand, the bull rose right
under the boat's stern, lifted her clean out of the water with his head,
and then, as he swept onward, gave her an underclip with his mighty
flukes, smashing her in like an egg-shell and sending men, oars, tub and
lines, and broken timbers, broadcast into the air. Then, with the lady
by his side, he raced away.

Most fortunately, our own boat was still towing astern, for as we
were so near the land we had not bothered about hoisting her up again,
knowing that we should want her to tow us into Jakoits if the wind fell
light when going through the passage.

The mate, two Penrhyn Island natives and myself were but a few moments
in hauling her alongside, jumping in, and pulling to the assistance
of the whale-boat's crew, some of whom we could see clinging to the
wreckage. The officer in charge was a little wiry Western Island
Portuguese, and as we came up he called out to us that one of the men
was killed and had sunk, and another, whom he was supporting, had his
leg broken and was unconscious. We lifted them into the boat as quickly
as possible, laid the injured man on his back and started for the
schooner. We had scarcely pulled a dozen strokes when, to our profound
astonishment, we saw her suddenly keep away from us.

Sure enough, the skipper was on deck, and at the wheel, and took not the
slightest heed of our repeated hails, except that he merely turned his
head, gave us a brief glance, eased off the main-sheet a bit, and let
the schooner spin away towards the land. We learnt next evening that he
had suddenly emerged on deck from his bunk, given the helmsman a cuff
on the head, and driven him, the steward and the other remaining hand
up for'ard. They and the native passengers, who knew something of his
performances when in liquor, were too frightened to do anything, and let
him have his own way.

We pulled after the schooner as hard as we could for a quarter of an
hour, then gave it up and steered for the barque, which was now a couple
of miles away. She had been working to windward after the chief
mate's and fourth mate's boats--both of which had quickly killed their
respective whales--when the disaster to the second officer's boat was
seen, and she was now coming towards us. The fourth boat was miles
distant, chasing the main body of the 'pod,' in company with those of
the other barques and the ship.

By this time it was all but dark; a short, choppy sea had risen, the
wind came in sharp, angry puffs every now and then, and we made scarcely
any headway against it. The barque seemed to be almost standing still,
though she was really coming along at a ripping pace. Presently she
showed a light, and we felt relieved. Just then the man with the broken
leg called to his officer, and asked for a smoke, and I was filling my
pipe for him when the boat struck something hard with a crash, shipped a
sea aft, and at once capsized, several of us being taken underneath her.

The Portuguese, who was a gallant little fellow, had, with one of the
Penrhyn Islanders, got the wounded man clear, and presently we all found
ourselves clinging to the boat, which was floating bottom-up and badly
bilged. Fortunately, none of us were hurt, but our position was a
dangerous one, and we kept hailing repeatedly, fearing that the barque
would run by us in the darkness, and that the blue sharks would discover
us. Then, to our joy, we saw her close to, bearing right down upon us,
and now came the added terror that she would run us down, unless those
on board could be made to hear our cries and realise our situation.

Again we raised our voices, and shouted till our lungs were exhausted,
but no answer came, the only sounds we heard being the thrapping
and swash of the waves against our boat. Five minutes--which seemed
hours--passed, and then we suddenly lost sight of the barque's
headlight, and saw the dull gleam of those aft shining through the cabin
ports.

No response came; then again they hailed, and again we shouted unitedly,
but no reply, and presently we saw a blue light was being burnt on the
starboard side--they were looking for us in the wrong quarter. For some
minutes our suspense was horrible, for, if the captain thought he had
overshot our boat (knowing nothing of the second disaster), he would,
we feared, go off on the other tack. Again they hailed, and again
we answered, though we were now feeling pretty well done up, and the
Portuguese was alternately praying to the saints and consigning his
captain to hell.

It so happened that they had not heard us at all; but the captain, at
the earnest request of the ship's cooper, who believed that we had been
swamped, and were to leeward, decided to keep away for a short time, and
then again bring-to. Not only was he anxious for us, but for the other
boats, and the dead whales as well; for he feared that, unless he could
get the latter alongside by daylight, and start to cut-in, the sharks
would devour the best part of them.

A few more minutes passed, and now we saw the barque looming through the
night, and apparently again coming right on top of us. We shouted
and screamed till our voices broke into hoarse groans; and then there
happened a strange thing. That which had caused our misfortune proved
our salvation. We heard a crashing sound, followed by loud cries of
alarm, and then saw the ship lying flat aback, canting heavily over to
port. Presently she righted, and then made a stern-board, and came so
close to us that one of the hands not only heard our cries but saw us in
the water.

In an instant the captain called to us to cheer up, and said a boat was
coming. 'The ship struck some wreckage, and is making water,' he added.

We were taken aboard in two trips, the poor, broken-legged sailor
suffering terribly. He had been kept from drowning by one of the Penrhyn
men, who stuck to him like a brick through all the time we were in the
water. Neither of these brave islanders had lost heart for a moment,
though Harry, the elder of the two, was in consumption and not at all
strong.

As soon as we had sufficiently recovered to be able to talk and tell our
story, we were pleased to hear from the captain that the ship was not
badly injured, and that the pumps--short-handed as he then was--could
easily keep the water down; also that all the other boats were safe,
and had signalled that they had each 'killed,' and were lying by their
whales.

Early in the morning the four ships were within a few miles of each
other, and each had one or more whales alongside, cutting-in. The
schooner, too, was in sight, lying becalmed under the lee of Ponapé. The
captain of the whaler lent me one of his boats, paid me a fair price for
the loss of our own, and otherwise treated us handsomely. He was highly
pleased at having such 'greasy luck,' i.e., getting three fish, and,
besides presenting me with another barrel of potatoes, gave me four
bolts of canvas, and each of our natives came away with a small case of
tobacco, and five dollars in silver.

We had a long pull to the schooner, and our arrival was hailed with
cries of delight. The skipper, we were pleased to learn, was nearly
dead, having been severely beaten by the women passengers on board, one
of whom, creeping up behind him as he was steering, threw a piece of
tappa cloth over his head, while the others bore him to the deck and
tied him up and hammered him. He told me a few days afterwards that he
had not the slightest recollection of leaving us in the boat.

The wreckage upon which the whale-ship struck was, so her captain
imagined, the same which had capsized our boat. As far as he could make
out in the darkness, it was a long and wide piece of decking, belonging
to a large ship. Our boat, very probably, had gone half her length
on top of the edge of it, and was then washed off again after she had
bilged; and the strong current had set us clear.